I will never forget the first time I met Lon Austin. I was standing in a “hallway” between the wood-paneled walls of the longtime Central Oregonian office and towering gray dividers that sectioned off reporter work spaces. A short parade of reporters walked past, introducing themselves to me, the incoming reporter who would join the ranks in the next couple of weeks.
Most of the greetings were your typical exchange of pleasantries, putting my nervous new-guy brain a little more at ease. Lon, a towering, bald-headed, goateed man was the last to walk by, and his greeting is seared into my brain to this day: He looked at me, said, “Hi I’m Lon. I pretend to be the sports reporter here,” and never broke stride. I watched as he walked past, expecting him to stop, maybe flash a sly grin or offer a chuckle … something! But he just kept going, with those long, slow strides I would see for many years to come at the office, at sporting events and many other community occasions.
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